


Afternoon from Hell

by hurinhouse



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:50:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3186158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurinhouse/pseuds/hurinhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sacrifices an agent makes  for the greater good..</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afternoon from Hell

Of all the things he'd done so far in the name of the bureau, a day with a pack of hyper, snotty eleven year olds was not Peter's idea of an agent's responsibility. And why couldn't they have just done this in New York?

"Have you done this outreach thing before, Joe?"

Joe Sanderson was his partner in this afternoon from hell. He whistled as they walked down the corridors of the elementary school, visitor's stickers on their lapels. He whistled as if he talked to children every day of his life.

"A couple of times. No big deal, man. They're just kids."

"Yeah. Just." With razor-sharp questions, and follow-up questions, and Peter was caught "uh-ing" and "um-ing" through most of them.

Not Joe. Joe was like a magnet, all of them begging to see the gun he hadn't brought in. He made it look easy enough that Peter could just lean back against the wall and wait it out.

"May I see your badge, Sir?"

Too much to hope for. Peter wasn't sure why they didn't send secretaries for this kind of thing. He'd been hoping for more field work. 

He knelt down beside the only kid not jumping up and down on the opposite side of the room.

"My badge, huh? Not my gun?" 

The kid was respectful and reserved as Peter passed the wallet into his small hand. 

"No, I see them all the time." 

"What?"

"Cool! You get your picture on it?" His eyes sparked at Peter's freaking badge of all things; two blue light specials.

"Yeah. People need to know who we are, right?"

"Shouldn’t you keep your identity a secret?" 

Peter tried to hide his smirk, "Only when we're undercover. Which isn't very often."

"Bummer."

"So, your parents take you hunting?"

"Hunting? No." 

"Do they own a sporting goods store?"

"No." The boy was preoccupied, rotating the wallet, examining the badge from all angles.

"Where do you see guns, then?"

"When I practice."

"Practice?"

"I'm going to be a cop, like my dad." Ah. That would have made sense, if he were maybe seventeen. But practicing with a service weapon at eleven? What kind of laws did they have here in St. Louis?

"Probationary agent. Is that like Kindergarten for the F.B.I.?" 

Peter snatched back the wallet, somehow lighter. Little shit. Then patted the boy's shoulder to lessen the sting. "It means I'm a full agent in two more months."

"Cool. Thanks, Peter." The boy crossed back to his seat, pulling out a blank paper and some colored pencils, dark waves hiding his eyes as he leaned over his desk.

"That's Agent Burke!"


End file.
